


Sir

by Mochas N Mayhem (KoohiiCafe)



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: And Merlin's having none of it, Dom/sub, Harry is a Little Shit, Harry is a persistent bastard, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Switch Harry, Switch Merlin, They're both Little Shits okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5910502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoohiiCafe/pseuds/Mochas%20N%20Mayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin was ready to swear that if he heard the word ‘sir’ come out of his knight’s mouth <i>one more time</i>, he was going to do something drastic. <i>What</i>, he didn’t know, not yet, but <i>something</i>. He hadn’t been made Merlin without reason; he could think of some fitting punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir

As a young lad discovering himself as he grew into adulthood, there had been certain things he’d known almost from the start; he was attracted not just to women, but to men as well; age didn’t factor into his fascination with someone; a quick mind was far more captivating than a fit body; there was something incredibly alluring about the word ‘sir’ when it rolled off another’s tongue. He’d been unafraid of these facts, unashamed, and had pursued further knowledge of them and himself with the same fervor with which he pursued all knowledge. When he reached the age of consent, he pursued that knowledge in fact as well as theory. By the time he was old enough to purchase his own spirits, he’d become established in a community of like-minded individuals, well known by many as a young man with the will to learn, and with a regard and respect for those around him, no matter where they stood in life.

It wasn’t until three years later that he discovered quite another aspect of himself, quite by accident, when an offer from an older gentleman in a smart suit sent his life branching into a completely new direction.

It wasn’t until two years after that, when another man in a smart suit crashed into his life, this one younger than the first, a man who was as wild as he was gentlemanly, that he let himself explore that new aspect.

 

* * *

 

It began with one word.

“ _Sir_.”

A word given through gritted teeth, one he had absolutely no desire to give to the man who received it, but a word given with no choice. A word that should not have caused the reaction within himself that it did, not when given to this man. A word that was received with an arched eyebrow, a cock of a head, and a little quirk of lips that was the equivalent of a well self-satisfied smirk.

“Merlin! How cordial of you.” The voice was smug; it grated on his nerves as hardly anything else did, and the other man knew it. He was insufferable with the knowledge, and not for the first time, Merlin cursed the day Arthur had assigned him personally to their newest knight, seeming to think that he would be able to effect some kind of control or influence over his wild recklessness.

So far, it had been an utter failure. Three missions spent as the man’s handler. Three missions that should have been quick, simple, effortless. Three missions that, while successful, had all ended up involving explosions, gunfire, excessive destruction of Kingsman equipment, or some combination of the three.

Arthur was not going to be pleased. Again.

“You know, there’s really no need to stand on such ceremony here,” Galahad was saying, dark eyes alight with some kind of spark that put Merlin on guard. He’d seen that spark, that mischief, reflected in mirrors through the knight’s glasses feed; he bore it most often when he was laying some kind of trap, verbal or physical, for a mark. “No need to address me as ‘sir’ here.” The knight paused, briefly, almost too brief to notice. Merlin noticed, and it set his nerves on fire, a clear tell that the man was about to set whatever trap he thought he could. “That’s not to say you can’t, of course. If you’re more comfortable addressing me so, then please do. It’s perfectly normal to prefer the use of honorifics and titles.”

_There_. Hidden in perfectly casual words, in a tone as smooth as any he’d ever heard.

Galahad _knew_. Somehow, although Merlin could hardly fathom how, Galahad _knew_.

His eyes narrowed, his face closing off into the best mask of neutrality and calm he had, preventing his grip from tightening on his clipboard through strength of will only.

“This way then, _Galahad_ , and we’ll complete yer debriefing.”

“Of course,” the insufferable man grinned, that mischief still shining brightly in his eyes, and he nodded. “After you then, my good sir. You may debrief me at will.”

As he turned on heel to lead the way stiffly to the nearest conference room, Merlin ruthlessly refused to acknowledge the spark of heat deep within that had been lit by the utterance of one simple word, both when it had come from Galahad’s lips, and when it had come from his _own_.

 

* * *

 

Three months and five missions later, Merlin was ready to swear that if he heard the word ‘sir’ come out of his knight’s mouth _one more time_ , he was going to do something drastic. _What_ , he didn’t know, not yet, but _something_. He hadn’t been made Merlin without reason; he could think of some fitting punishment.

Perhaps replace his lighter with one of the new prototype lighter grenades tech was just beginning to develop.

No. The last thing Galahad needed was more explosives.

Perhaps mix his pomade with one of the new short term amnesia gels they were in the process of testing.

No. It’d be a hassle if- _when_ \- the man tried to track his loss of memory.

Perhaps slip that new poison into his scotch, the one that was meant to cause a mark to be violently ill.

No. Too messy.

Perhaps lace his suit with itching powder before he got out of medical.

Yes. _Perfect_.

It was an effort not to smile with the thought of the sight the knight would present if it came to that, but he managed to keep his face neutral as he stepped into the man’s room, closing the door calmly behind him.

“Galahad.” He gave a brief nod of his head towards the man where he sat up in the bed, a deep crimson robe wrapped comfortably around his medical scrubs. “Ye’ve managed to return in one piece this time, with naught but a mild concussion, and without a single explosion. I’m impressed.”

“Oh?” The man’s voice was amused, his lips tugged into a smirk, perfectly poised where he sat, and if Merlin hadn’t read medical’s reports, he’d never believe he had a concussion. “I’ve finally managed to impress the indomitable Merlin, have I? Surely that is an achievement worthy of celebration.”

It was Merlin’s turn to smirk now.

“Don’t let it go to yer head. Out of a total eight missions, ye’ve only managed to complete one within the exact guidelines set for you; I don’t know that I’d be crowing over a ratio like that.”

“Ah, but you mistake me, sir.”

Merlin’s eye twitched. Galahad continued without pause.

“I mean only that this might be a new beginning between you and I. We got off to something of a rocky start, and the blame for that might perhaps fall upon me. It is the task of a true gentleman, however, to be noble, and there is nothing more noble than to be superior to one’s former self. What better way to better myself than to mend the fence between us?”

The look Merlin leveled at the knight was nothing short of incredulous. Galahad looked nothing if not placidly sincere as he met his gaze unflinchingly.

One day, Merlin was going to lace _Arthur’s_ suit with itching powder for assigning him to Galahad.

“I see.”

He had no idea what else he could say to that. So, instead, he said firmly; “Yer to remain in medical overnight for observation. If yer cleared tomorrow morning, ye’ll be debriefed then.” Then he turned to open the door and leave. He was halfway out of it when Galahad’s voice reached his ears;

“Understood, my good sir.”

His eye twitched again, thankfully hidden from the knight’s view this time. Merlin shut the door firmly behind him and firmly did _not_ squeeze his clipboard so tightly it groaned threateningly.

Galahad was cleared by medical the next morning, and reported to Merlin’s office for debriefing as soon as he’d showered and dressed. If Merlin noticed the way the man seemed to fidget strangely, restlessly, endlessly, in his seat, it never showed in his expression.

 

* * *

 

“Galahad! _Galahad_!”

His tone was sharp, furious, his voice loud and spiked with something that another man might have labeled fear.

“Galahad, _sir_!”

There was no answer. The camera of Galahad’s glasses feed was still, and the only sound transmitting was a ragged, wet, stuttering breathing.

Merlin’s fingers flew furiously over his keyboard, typing faster than the computer could keep up. Without pause, he barked orders, to other handlers, to medical, to the extraction team. His eyes never strayed from his monitors, his own heart beating a racing tempo in his chest, fire running through his veins, and as his orders were obeyed, there was nothing left to do himself except watch. _Wait_. Nothing to do except remain at his station, halfway across the country from where his knight lay bleeding out from a bullet that had managed to piece the fabric of his suit, eyes and ears alert for any change in Galahad’s status.

The view never changed, nor the breathing, save perhaps to grow weaker, until suddenly there were boots running into the field of vision. He could hear as Ambrosius directed the extraction team from her own station, and then they had him; the feed shifted, the voices of the extraction team coming clearly through it as one of them, the doctor of the team, checked Galahad over, verified it was safe to move him, and then the knight was being lifted onto a stretcher. Before they’d made the plane, the feed was terminated by one of the field agents, Galahad’s glasses being removed and tucked away.

Merlin was on his feet in a heartbeat, a short order given to his second in command, Emrys, to take over, and then he was moving towards medical. He’d be there to greet Galahad when he was brought in.

The night passed in a blur after that, the extraction team bringing the knight straight to medical, Morgana herself heading the surgery to extract the bullet. Merlin worked where he could, did as he was directed, his own medical experience far outweighed by Morgana and the Sisters of Avalon who worked beneath her.

It wasn’t until the next evening that Galahad woke, having slept heavily after the successful surgery. Merlin was there when he did, by coincidence he would insist if questioned, he had only stepped in to check his vitals.

When those dark eyes finally opened, rolling around until his gaze fell upon the Scot, it was with a medication slurred voice that he managed;

“That’s… the first time you’ve… called me sir… in eight months...”

Then he was out again, lost to sleep.

Little shit. Merlin was lacing his suit with itching powder again the first chance he got.

 

* * *

 

Three months later found Merlin sat behind the monitors of a plane, watching as Galahad’s mission went completely to shit within the span of a scant few seconds. It wasn’t often he was in the field, but it had been critical that this be a small mission, as few agents involved as possible. For that purpose, Merlin had come to handle his knight in person, with no extra staff involved.

It hadn’t helped. They’d been compromised, and Galahad was fighting a losing battle against trained soldiers who had clearly been prepared to find a spy in their midst.

Merlin waited only long enough to see the knight’s feed go still when he was knocked to the ground from a blow to the head; he broke radio silence seconds later, calling for a full extraction team, before arming himself heavily, and heading off.

Knight he may not be, but Merlin was the wizard, and he was far from helpless.

He’d lost track of how many clips he’d emptied into enemy soldiers by the time he reached Galahad, but it wasn’t nearly enough, because they just kept coming, far more of them than any intel had first indicated. He was running low on ammunition, and he hadn’t made it through unscathed himself; a quick self-evaluation, as he prepared to charge the room the knight had been in when he went down, reminded him sharply of where a bullet had grazed his neck, where a soldier had gotten a solid kick in at his knee, another a knife into his side. Far from an ideal condition to be charging an enemy alone, but there wasn’t another choice. Until an extraction team reached them, Merlin was the only back up Galahad had.

When, a moment later, a sharp pain stabbed at the back of his head and he found himself crashing to his knees, he had a thought that if they’d been prepared for Harry, they were prepared for him as well.

The next thing he registered after that was throbbing pain in his head, his side, his knee. His eyes slid open and he hissed at the onslaught of light, quickly closing them again. There was a laugh just above him, Harry’s laugh, and thank fuck he was alright. Alright enough to laugh, at least, even if the sound was sharp and somewhat biting.

“There was no need to try and duplicate the circumstances of my last long stay in the medical ward, Merlin. If you wanted to hear me address you as ‘sir,’ all you need have done is ask.”

Alright enough to be a little shit.

Itching powder. And maybe that amnesia inducing pomade after all. As soon as this headache went away and they escaped.

 

* * *

 

It was a month before he and Galahad were both cleared for duty again, before they were given another mission. A month during which the knight had been all but insufferable in their shared grounding. A day hadn’t gone by where the man didn’t flirt outrageously, and after the first week, Merlin had given in and begun to take lunch with him simply to get him to shut up. Three weeks in, lunch had turned to dinner, and the other man had not been shy in the least when it came to dropping hints about his interest in Merlin, and in their _shared_ interests.

He _still_ didn’t know how Harry had found out in the first place. Nevermind that the man was a spy, Merlin was as well, and he’d been careful not to let his extracurricular interests come anywhere near his work.

His knight’s voice drew him from the still unanswered question; he was introducing himself to the mark, taking her hand and bowing low to her, kissing the back of it before saying,

“ _Such a pity that it’s taken this long for us to become acquainted, madam. Just to think, I could have enjoyed your lovely visage long ago, had I only realized._ ”

Charming to the core, the perfect picture of a gentleman, and she fell for it perfectly. There were stars in her eyes as she looked up to him, and her voice dripped with delighted enchantment as she asked after his official title.

Merlin almost groaned, barely biting the low sound back as the knight answered, his tone thick, and deep, and far too laden with sexual intent;

“ _You may address me as ‘ **Sir** ,’ my dear_.”

They both knew perfectly well the he wasn’t talking to his mark. They both knew perfectly well who that comment was intended for.

Before he could second guess himself or change his mind, Merlin flicked the switch on his mike and growled out; “Focus on yer task, Galahad. Finish this mission within _all parameters_ , and without getting so much as a single bruise… and ye just might get to hear that title after all.”

 

* * *

 

The next day found Galahad back at HQ and cleared quickly by medical, all of whom were amazed to find not even a scratch on the man. He was just out of his scrub shirt, left only in the trousers and slippers, readying to don his suit, when Merlin opened the door to the examination room. There was an almost surprised look on Harry’s face at the intrusion, before his expression smoothed into something like smug amusement. He nodded, acknowledging;

“Merlin.”

Dark eyes met hazel, something between them that had been building for months beyond the telling, and the corners of Merlin’s lips tugged up as he answered;

“ _Sir_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you're on tumblr, you can find me at [MakethWoman](http://makethwoman.tumblr.com)!


End file.
